


Aftermath

by lightinthehall



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, M/M, Making Out, One Shot, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:59:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1378117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightinthehall/pseuds/lightinthehall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>Prompt:</strong> Matt and Al getting drunk on eggnog and trashing their house, breaking things, then kissing really passionately but eventually falling asleep in the floor. <strong>The aftermath.</strong> [ for <a class="tumblelog" href="http://tmblr.co/manmf3sBIEgPcozikZxSHoQ">mint-chocolategelato</a> | AmeCan Secret Santa ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

“What room are we even in?” Matthew murmurs, and Alfred can feel the flutter of his eyelashes against his skin, soft and rapid in their flickering. Disoriented hands drag up his back before sliding onto the cool, smooth surface beneath them, fingers spread wide and feeling around.

“I don’t know, I can’t see with my eyes closed,” Alfred says. He hears a distant _duh_ in the back of his head – the voice sounds an awful lot like Matthew’s - except it can’t be Matthew because _Matthew_ is too busy groaning into his mouth, and sliding his tongue between his lips. Hazarding a peek, Alfred’s eyes open wide enough to take in the sight of Matthew, dazed, flushed and wanting against the wooden floor before everything starts to spin and his eyes slam shut again, as he fights the building nausea. Right. _That’s_ why he had his eyes closed.

Matthew’s hips hitch up against his, and a hand returns to grip his short hair and Alfred can’t bring himself to care where they are. He shifts his weight across the familiar body, pressing down and flattening Matt against the floor, securing both hands above his head.

There are better things to think about.

“Never again,” Matthew says, trying to move his arms out of his hold, but Alfred only flexes, and bears down before the Canadian goes slack again. Matthew may be a well-spoken drunk (with violent tendencies) but he’s more malleable once down. Subduing said Canadian is easier said than done – as evidenced by what must be an overturned end table next to them - but given the ache in his upper shoulders and the pounding in his head, Alfred feels it is well-earned.

“Mm?”

“Never letting you buy ten cartons of discount eggnog ever again.”

“ _Clearance_ _sale,_ Mattie,” Alfred says as he licks the lingering taste of alcohol out his mouth, coaxing Matthew’s tongue around his. He slides his leg between Matthew’s thighs, and moans happily when the other’s mouth opens wider for him.

Matthew grinds up on his leg, brushing his own thigh against Alfred’s hardening cock and the room spins in a very different way, sparks shooting up along his body as Matthew establishes a rhythm.

Lifting his mouth away from Matthew’s and chasing the last taste of eggnog across Matthew’s jawline and across his neck (pouring it over Matthew earlier was a good idea, he decides, even if he got socked in the nose for it). He discovers the flavour has concentrated at the juncture of Matthew’s neck, laving over the particular inch of skin before biting down, gently sucking until it’s the pure taste of Matthew beneath his lips.

He can’t say what's more pleasing at that moment – the sinuous roll of Matthew’s hips or the shiver that Matthew can’t suppress. Alfred wants to draw out the very breath of him, summon exquisite sounds and vibrations only to absorb them with his own mouth and body, wants to take everything Matthew has to give, and keep it within himself, owning him, wholly.

Alfred wants to do everything, everything, everything but he feels the heaviness in his head, the uncoordinated weight of his limbs. Alfred regrets, momentarily, the haze clouding his mind, because Matthew is sweet and arching underneath him. These opportunities don’t seem to occur often enough.

He chances another look at Matthew, and grins when the room, for once, doesn’t tip and topple around him. Matthew is a glorious sight, smooth, wavy hair in disarray around his head, and pink-tinged cheeks huffing out shuddering exhales. His hair is damp with sweat and water from the flower vase that they had broken during their grappling earlier.

Following Matthew’s lead, he begins to press back into the movements, reveling in the _ah-ah-ah_ that falls from kiss-swollen lips.

His own breathing roughens, and heat builds in his core, simmering through his blood, but it isn’t enough. Firmly squeezing Matthew’s wrists – _stay_ – before releasing them, he reaches down between them, unbuckling, and unbuttoning their belts and pants, sliding the material, down and away until he can realign their hips, with both of their cocks in hand. It’s a loose grasp, his hand not fully closed around them, but the additional stimulation spirals through both of them.

They thrust into his hand and it’s dry at first, burns with an undeniable edge of pleasure but soon, the two of them are slick with each other, and the slide is easier.

Matthew gasps and writhes and bucks, yet his own arms stay outstretched above his head, exactly where Alfred left them. He thrills in his bones at the sight of it, at the whispered pleading of his name, _AlfredAlfredAlfred_ over.

He closes his hand around them, their hips move harder against each other and he is lost – the world is a rush of white and ringing and the very air around them seems to disappear into his bliss.

Alfred returns the world flat on his back, with a frantic Matthew leaning over him, hand moving fast along his own dick.

“Come for me Matthew, wanna see it, come on,” Alfred says, voice low and wrecked.

Matthew falls apart, just for him, and Alfred has the process memorized – how Matthew trembles endlessly, as if the pleasure starts from his centre and spreads through him in thunderous waves.

Alfred pulls Matthew flat onto him, wrapping his arms around his torso as they shudder into each other. He presses three kisses to Matthew’s forehead as their eyes begin to fall sleepily shut.

\---

Later, Matthew is shaking him awake from his sleep. Alfred groans and tries to turn over, only to realize that Matthew is still straddling him. Hopeful, he opens his eyes only to be drenched in dread at the expression on Matthew’s face. His arms are crossed, and his eye brow raised, and he looks directly at Alfred for one long moment before looking away, and across his shoulder.

Apprehensively following his line of vision, Alfred freezes.

It’s a complete disaster zone. They’re in their living room– or what’s left of it – and while he remembers the end table and the shattered vase (glass shards still spread across the soaked rug) he can’t quite recall how the lamp got into the potted plants or why the couch is flipped. Or – _oh God_ – why the coffee table is smashed in half.

Though that may explain the dull ache in his side.

_Shit_.

“So,” and Matthew is suddenly right in his face, hands clenched tight around Alfred’s spread arms. Up close, his expression is even more terrifying and Alfred is momentarily confused when Matthew grinds down once, causing him to squirm from fear and arousal. Matthew’s eyes are like ice. 

“This was _your_ bright idea, how do you think you should be punished?”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! It's been quite a while hasn't it?
> 
> I know eggnog is quite out of season but [cutepiku](http://tmblr.co/m6KjE0k1AnjraCuSNSJJffg) had asked me to fill one of the prompts that got missed in the AmeCan Secret Santa. And I couldn't resist writing about AmeCan make-outs so here we are.
> 
> I think Alfred is right to be more scared of sober!Matthew because while drunk!Matthew is more likely to get into a fight, sober!Matthew would be cool-and-collected enough to prolong any torture. u___u Sorry Alfred.


End file.
